


You're Alive!

by RenaRoo



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4643646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaRoo/pseuds/RenaRoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[”Continuation” of Retrograde] After nearly dying, Simmons is met by the embrace of a very, gratuitously happy Grif. Their desire to celebrate not-death goes in less than desirable directions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Alive!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Retrograde](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4640316) by [Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective). 



> A/N: Having fully asserted myself now as an embarrassment to the collective human body, I am publishing this with the abject horror that I, of all people, wrote Grimmons porn. I am ashamed. I am laughing my butt off. I am forever blaming goodluckdetective and ephemeraltea for this. They are the actual best/worst. The former for supporting me in absolutely ruining everything that made her original fanfic amazing. The latter in supporting the decision to bring this forth to the world.
> 
> Have mercy on my unworthy soul.

Grif’s hands, despite their very limited work schedule, managed to be rough in texture. Something Simmons could honestly say wouldn’t have been so apparent if both of the thick paws weren’t clenched around his jawline and forcing Simmons to stare right at him.

He struggled a bit, “Grif! Stop it--”

“No, you listen, I had to look at your dead body long enough I have to run back ups of you _living_ face so that I can erase whatever the fuck that was that you just put me through.”

“Put _you_ through? I just died!” Simmons snapped off just as Grif leaned forward and sniffed his hair right by his earlobe. “Grif, what the actual fuck!?”

“I have to document as much as possible. Maybe have you put it in a spreadsheet for me. You were dead and I was like ‘oh fuck, I don’t have a good description of Simmons’ hair’s smell.’ Write this down, Simmons: _fucking great.”_

With that, Simmons kicked off Grif’s stomach, sending them both to the floor. “Oh my _god_ you have lost your _mind!”_

Grif just sat up on the floor, apparently not even deterred from being kicked in the first place, he leaned closer to Simmons, waving his hands exuberantly. “I’m not losing my mind, I’m gaining it. A whole new perspective. Simmons, I have found a whole new appreciation for the world because you’re still in it. Is that madness? Or is it the singularity of the universe finally speaking to me?”

Simmons snorted, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my god, I broke you. You are officially a nutcase.”

“I’m a man rejuvenated,” Grif continued to assert as he crawled closer to Simmons. “You fucking _terrified_ me, man. You have no idea... you really don’t know what that was like.”

Looking up, Simmons met Grif’s gaze, looked past the contrast of dark brown and gentle blue, and found himself a little melted inside with the ferocity of Grif’s emotions. God, he meant every crazy word, didn’t he?

“Make it up to me,” Grif said so suddenly that Simmons almost thought he missed it.

“Excuse me?” Simmons asked with a blink.

“You’re guilty, I’m _so goddamn happy_ you’re alive, let’s make it something.”

Simmons stared at him for a moment, realized Grif was already leaning over him, and smacked him upside the head just like Sarge had done to them since Blood Gulch. 

“Simmons, what the hell!?”

“Does me dying really make you _fucking horny!?_ What’s wrong with you!?”

“I’m not horny because you died, I’m horny because you’re alive!”

“Oh my god -- _what. is. wrong. with. you!?”_

“I love you?” 

Simmons stared at him, brain fizzling just beneath his skull. He had never been more put off or more completely turned on by someone. He wanted to punch Grif in the throat. “That would almost be romantic if you didn’t already have an erection.”

“It’s a happiness boner.”

The maroon soldier looked around the hall -- _they were in a public hallway._ “Grif, we’re in public!!!”

“So? People have sex all the time in public. You always said you were Dutch-Irish, how about you channel some of that inner French?”

He stared at Grif. “I could strangle you.”

“I can work that into this,” Grif responded quickly. He grabbed Simmons’ head before he could be smacked again and closed the space between them, pulling Simmons by his hand and locking their faces.

It felt like more of a homecoming than the churn of gears that had awakened him on the table beneath Doctor Grey and Red Team, it felt amazing -- his heart trying to break out of the steel framing of his chest. 

Grif always felt firm and warm against him, and it wasn’t long before Simmons’ free hand was working its way around Grif’s neck, supporting himself in what was a rather back bending position when left to its own devices. 

Grif’s freehand worked its way around Simmons’ back, fingers inching along the groves of his spine and into--

Simmons pulled off with a gasp and glared at Grif. “We’re in a hallway!”

“You keep saying that like it’s supposed to mean something--”

“It _does_ mean something, Grif! It means _we’re in a goddamn hallway for the world to see!!!”_ Simmons snapped back only to release an indignant yelp as Grif’s hand makes it past the elastic waistband of his undershorts. “Grif!”

“What?”

He just _glared_ at the man incredulously before groaning and lowering his head. “Oh for fuck’s sake, let’s do this.”

There was a wicked grin that crossed Grif’s face and he dove in for another kiss just as his hand reached for Simmons’ underpants again, tugging them and the gym sweats down in a firm yank.

Grif stopped just as Simmons was beginning to melt into the moment and forget the extenuating circumstances of their predicament, causing Simmons to release a gargled growl. Grif was looking down into his face.

“Oh for the love of god -- _WHAT?”_ Simmons demanded.

“So, is that a gun or are you just happy to see me?” Grif asked with a snort. “I thought I was excited--”

“I hate you so much it’s astounding,” Simmons said point blank. “Now either fuck me or get off.”

“Well, given the options...”

“Shut up.”

Simmons’ back finally meets the floor and Grif is working the pant legs off only to manage to turn them inside out and catch them on Simmons’ robotic foot. Without warning, Grif’s supporting hand leaves and Simmons’ head smacked against the floor as the other man begins to focus on the caught pant leg. Simmons questioned his lot in life.

“Grif, what’re you doing?” he demanded. 

“Your pants--”

“Why do you care!?”

“Why _don’t_ you care!?”

They glare at each other. 

“Grif, I swear to god--”

“You don’t believe in God--”

“I _swear to Sarge_ I will kick your ass if you don’t hurry up!”

For whatever reason, Grif’s face dropped from into a determined look, his mouth becoming a concentrated flat line as he shifted his attention back on Simmons’ half bare body. It was then that Simmons became self aware and felt himself heat up from head to toe with a modicum of shame. At least until Grif gripped the cursed pantleg and in one motion ripped off from Simmons’ foot. 

And, for some reason, Simmons found that motion to be both destructive _and_ incredibly hot. 

Still, he looked slightly over his shoulder at the ripped pants. “I liked those--” he muttered just before Grif moved and was planting a sloppy kiss against his lips. Simmons snorted into it at first, feeling it was a little unexpected, but kissed back as Grif began to work Simmons’ hips up, balancing him against Grif’s own thighs. 

Simmons paused, looking at Grif skeptically. “Do you remember how this went last time--”

“I brought a condom--”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. You gave me a neck ache for a _week_ , Grif--”

Grif looked off, seemingly racing through his thoughts to find the remarked upon experience. He bobbed his head side to side before settling on a small nod. “Yes, I think it was totally worth having to hear you complain for that entire week.”

Simmons stared at him. “You’re an animal.”

“Yes, but the animal that loves you,” Grif remarked as he reached to his own pants pocket. “Just trust me on this, I’m too happy to have you alive to want to make a mistake out of this moment.”

Simmons threw up his hands as much as he could manage with Grif on top of him. “You say _in a hallway!”_

“Stop saying that, you’ll jinx it,” Grif replied as he unzipped and began working with one hand. 

“Jinx what? There’s nothing to jinx. You can’t jinx _terrible ideas_ because, by nature, they are _terrible!”_ Simmons explained heatedly. “Oh my god what are we doing here--” his entire body flinched with the sudden intrusion and while he spared Grif the smack, he did glare at him with enough pointed anger that the meaning was rather obvious. He threw up a finger at him just for emphasis anyway. “You asshole.”

“Well, I mean, from _my_ position,” Grif began, rubbing circles into the small of Simmons’ back while his fingers pressed and massaged, “I’m not really the asshole in question.”

“This is the longest quick and dirty of my entire life.”

“Yeah I think we broke the standards for one of those a while back, so I’m just going to enjoy this,” Grif responded, finishing up before leaning in over Simmons for another kiss as his hands fiddled outside of the others’ vision. 

Simmons allowed it despite his annoyance, not being able to help but gasp into Grif’s mouth as one of Grif’s hands reached for his own erection, almost masking the feeling of Grif’s pressing against him. 

And just finally, _FINALLY_ as Grif moved and their hips met, and Simmons was gone from reality and all consequences there in, as they both grunted and groaned against each other, a squeal interrupted with,

“Absolutely _fascinating!!!”_

Simmons felt himself be dropped but honestly was so surprised himself that he couldn’t even brace for it. His head connects for the second time but he’s busy whipping to look in the same direction as Grif -- to Doctor Grey, Sarge, Donut, and Lopez all standing at the end of the hall, their fellow Reds holding various gift baskets and even a _Get Well Soon_ balloon.

He would have thought that you could hear a pin drop in the hallway at that moment, but there was no need, because Donut’s head was leaning so far to one side that some of the homemade bread loaves in his basket tumbled out making quite the rhythmic pattern.

For a few seconds, Simmons thought they would be frozen like that for eternity, all six of them in joint Simmons Hell when Grif bucked forward into Simmons without warning, making him yelp.

“Grif!” 

“Look, it wasn’t going to get any worse.”

Lopez yelled something so high pitched and, well, Spanish, that there was no hope of understanding, threw his hands into the air and walked back down the hall they came from, the _Get Well_ balloon floating up to the ceiling where it popped, seeming to release all Hell on them.

“Your libido wasn’t at all hindered by cardiac arrest. It could possibly mean that the attachment to inorganic matter has somehow led less to a stress response to your body and has somehow stimulated more function? I never thought to examine how close your bionic leg was to your sexual organs before or even thought to examine their effect! Tell me, how quickly after reviving was your first erection!?”

“Awwwwwright. Awwright awwright. I think we need to celebrate because Simmons is _feeling fine!_ You dogs, you. I’ll have to call up Doc and let him know -- oh, oh! We should start having couple’s night. I call the tophat in Monopoly!”

Sarge, somehow the worst of them all, was just watching, seeming to take in the image. 

Simmons stared at the ceiling. “Oh, fuck me.”

“Well, I mean, I’m trying--”

“Grif, shut up!”

Donut’s head cocked to the side, bright eyes blinking. “I have to say, Simmons, I never thought you were a bottom for some reason. I don’t know why. It’s good to know--”

Grif’s head snapped toward Donut, looking mortified. “What do you mean ‘it’s good to know’!? Also: _what do you mean you didn’t think he was--_ I mean.” His eyed Simmons carefully. “Uh. Not that it means... anything...”

Simmons contemplated allowing himself to feel even  _more_ embarrassed, that way all his systems would shut down and that time there wouldn’t be a chance of saving him. For a few, shining moments he wanted to congratulate himself on the greatest idea in history. 

“Alright, that’s enough!” Sarge bellowed, commanding everyone attention and, for the first time, giving Grif some visible embarrassment of his own to deal with. “Simmons, I expected more from your choice in men! You could’ve gone a little bit better. Like a giant three toed sloth. Or an emu!”

“Well, Sir,” Simmons muttered, trying to hide his hand with his face despite it being _far_ too late. “You’re not _wrong...”_

“And, Grif!” Sarge continued.

“If this is something that will make me never able to speak to you again, Sir, I’d rather wait like... two more minutes. Really, you guys would be doing a _huge_ favor if you left for like. A minute. Half a minute.”

“That is absolutely horrific form! Sloppy, lazy -- like you’re trying to fuck a bowl of spaghetti instead of a fine piece of ass.”

“Oh my fucking _god!”_

Simmons stares into the ceiling, thinking for the first time since middle school he could possibly reconsider the atheism considering there is some form of cosmic mockery going on with his life that would _have_ to qualify as divine comedy. 

Almost sounding genuinely innocent, Donut tossed his head to the other side. “Wait, do you really want us to leave?”

“YES!” Grif and Simmons scream in unison. 

“Do you want us to delete he footage from that security camera, too?” Doctor Grey asked equally innocent sounding. 

More horrified, the two stiffened. “The what!?”

“I’ll just transfer it to my personal computer for study later, no worries, only my eyes will see it. And possibly my lab assistants.”

Simmons’ face heated up more. “No, please...”

Sarge seemed defiant, throwing his arms of _Get Well_ cards behind him as he got into a readied stance, hands up like he was about to catch a football. Simmons was feeling mortified and also feeling some terrible memories resurfacing before the old man explained himself.

“Grif, what you want is to pleasure your partner, not tease the asshole and then go in full stock,” Sarge said as if explaining a game play. “What you need to do is balance on your left knee and shift your weight to right. It’s all about angle and leverage. Doing it your way is going to give everyone some stiffness--”

“SARGE!” Simmons cried out just before he felt a shift behind him. “Grif, you fucking dare-- oh.”

“Oh.”

“There, see?” Sarge stood back up, crossing his arms confidently.

“Yes, actually,” Grif responded before turning his head toward them. “NOW GET THE FUCK OUT!!!”

They did, Donut giggling like a madman, and Simmons flattened into the floor.

“Grif, finish up. Please. Then let’s bury ourselves in the desert so we can never be found and have to answer any questions again.”

“Sure thing, especially now that I’ve got this position thing figured out.”


End file.
